


elegy for the end of days

by andthentheybow



Series: icarus is bullshit, that's why it's called mythology [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dadza, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Minecraft IRL, Mythology References, no beta we die like stupid block men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28080858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthentheybow/pseuds/andthentheybow
Summary: phil is cursed to have his happiness always in sight and always too far away to reach.wilbur is cursed to compose his symphony over and over again, only to see it destroyed on the verge of completion.techno is cursed to hold the world for all eternity, never to die and always to remember.or, tantalus, sisyphus, and atlas discuss the end.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Series: icarus is bullshit, that's why it's called mythology [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057166
Comments: 60
Kudos: 464





	elegy for the end of days

**Author's Note:**

> don't be creepy about content creators, these are my interpretations of their personas, if they're uncomfortable this will be deleted, etc etc

he can hear his name whispered in the wind,  _ wilbur, wilbur, wilbur _ , except he’s sitting in a ravine and the branches are still and nothing is moving. the wind and the rocks and caves are calling to him, telling him to join them, telling him to stop.

he’s not going to stop. he’s never going to stop.

“it feels like i’m useless,” he tells techno. they’re at the bottom of the ravine, techno sharpening his sword and wilbur tossing a knife in the air and catching it. he doesn’t know where tommy is. it feels like he never knows these days. he catches the knife again. “like i’m just going to keep trying and trying and i’m never actually going to succeed.”

“a sisyphean effort,” techno remarks. the knife clatters to the ground.

“a what?” wilbur asks.

“sisyphus,” techno clarifies. he puts his sword down and looks his brother in the eyes. his eyes are gleaming red and there is no light to reflect off of them. wilbur shivers. it isn’t cold.

“the greek myth,” wilbur nods. he knows techno has mentioned it before, but he can’t remember what it is. he can’t remember much of anything.

“he cheated death twice. the gods didn’t like that, so they punished him. he was doomed to push a boulder up a hill for all eternity, and every time he was about to reach the top, it would crush him and roll back down, and he would have to start over again.”

techno is looking up toward the sky now. wilbur can see the weight of the world on his brother’s shoulders. he thinks it might be resting on both of them. it might be resting on tommy, off who knows where. it might be resting on phil, worlds away.

“but he kept going,” techno says, much more quietly. wilbur almost thinks that it’s a whisper directly into his soul. “he kept going, over and over again, because of the promise of freedom when he finally got it up the hill.”

and techno isn’t even really talking to him anymore, he’s talking to himself, but wilbur knows. wilbur understands.

he is sisyphus. he has cheated death twice: the final control room. running from schlatt. and he is still here, he is still breathing, even if his breaths are harsh. he has cheated death twice, and the gods of the world decided to punish him.

he will spend an eternity trying to create his symphony. he will spend an eternity composing and singing and dancing and every time he gets close to finishing his masterpiece, he will be stopped. he will be crushed, rolled over, sent back to the bottom to start again. l’manberg is his sisyphean effort.

“when does it end?” he mutters.

“when you get to the top,” techno replies. “when you push the boulder over the edge of the hill and it tumbles down the other side, when you finally succeed.”

and wilbur decides, then and there, that he will find another way. he knows that there is no way to get the boulder to the top, that’s not how it works, that’s never how it works. if he wants his unfinished symphony to be finished, he’s going to need to find another way.

he’s going to blow up the hill. he’s going to blow up the boulder. he’s going to destroy everything that stands in his way, and if it destroys his symphony in the process, then so be it.

*

phil is kneeling at a grave and his son is standing by his side. there are fresh flowers, left by niki, a guitar from fundy, a picture frame from tubbo. tommy hasn’t been to the grave yet. phil can’t blame him.

“it’s always just out of reach,” phil mutters. techno doesn’t say anything, but he sets his hand on phil’s shoulder.

it is. it’s always just out of reach, a happy ending, a way for him and his sons to be happy and healthy and surviving.

“tantalus,” techno says. phil is used to his son’s talks of mythology, he listened to the theseus bit that happened barely three days ago, and he knows this is another name.  _ tantalizing _ , something so deliciously close but always out of reach. he waits for techno to explain.

“you’re tantalus,” techno repeats. phil turns his head away from wilbur’s grave and looks up at techno. techno is staring at the headstone. “you sacrificed your son to make a point to the gods. and now for the rest of eternity your happiness is always going to be just out of reach. you’ll be able to see it, but every time you try to get it-”

techno cuts himself off. phil looks up and this is the closest to tears he has ever seen him. he doesn’t need his son to finish. he understands.

he remembers the myth now. tantalus killed his son and cut him into pieces and fed him to the gods to prove that they were just as bad as the mortals. and phil would never, ever do something like that, except he did.

wilbur asked. he asked phil to kill him, and phil did! and it took two hits to kill his son and it was the worst thing he has ever had to do, worse even than the painful, painful respawn process after dying in a hardcore world. phil killed him, and while he did it, through his tears, he was hoping. hoping that this would be a lesson, to dream, to the god of the world, that war was painful and it hurt and it wasn’t something they should ever have to do again.

he knows. he knows they’re going to do it again. tubbo and tommy are just children, and they have been put in charge of a nation, and he knows that his sons will do their best but they are still  _ children _ .

it took two hits for him to kill wilbur. it tooks two shots for techno to kill tubbo. it tooks two days for tommy to collapse in phil’s arms and sob about all of the things that they lost. it took two rebellions for a nation for wilbur to lose his mind. it took two betrayals for tubbo’s gaze to harden as he looked at those around him.

it took two emperors to rule the antarctic empire. it’ll take the two of them to get through this. phil’s already abandoned one son. he’s not going to abandon the other. even if he can’t reach his own happy ending, he can help shove his remaining sons towards theirs.

*

techno is standing at the edge of a lake. the sky is dark and the waves are lapping at the shore and there is no wind to push them. there are clouds covering the moonlight and it is going to rain, he just knows it, like he knows that his younger brothers will never trust him again (the ones that are alive, at least) and his father will stop at nothing to make sure that they don’t go to war again. tommy might be exiled by tubbo and dream is manipulating them both and techno is so damn  _ angry _ about all of this. he may be the blood god, but he can’t do a damn thing, not in dream’s world.

he may be a god, but this world is not his. it is not his to bend and create and manipulate. the blood of the earth is not his to shed.

phil is standing behind him now. they have new armor, new weapons, reminiscent of their past. he can feel wilbur- ghostbur, he thinks it’s a stupid fucking name, because yeah, wilbur is different now, but he’s still  _ wilbur _ \- materializing behind him.

“i don’t know if i can do this,” techno mutters. he doesn’t know what it is that he’s talking about. he thinks phil and wilbur do.

“you’re atlas, mate,” phil says, and for a moment, techno is confused.

“i remember,” wilbur says, happily, almost. “i remember you telling me the story of atlas. the titan condemned to hold up the world.”

“and you think i’m atlas?” techno asks, amusement laced in his voice. he doesn’t know where they’re going with this. he knows they do.

“yeah,” phil says. “blood god. can’t die. but you’re a titan, not a god, because this world isn’t yours, and the gods keep knocking you down.”

“and i can see it in your eyes, techno,” wilbur says, quietly now. “you’re holding the weight of the world on your shoulders, even if it’s metaphorically, not literally.”

“so you think i’m atlas,” techno muses, and he supposes that they’re right. he holds the world on his shoulders, in his eyes, in his mind. he weaves words like he waves his weapon, a dance, a poem. he writes ballads out of blood and carves mountains with his mouth. he holds in his hands a world that is not his.

“is this the end?” he asks, staring out at the lake. the water is still now. somewhere, tommy is running. somewhere, tubbo is waiting. somewhere, the future, the children, are screaming. the future is screaming and the future doesn’t exist. the past is so far behind them that techno can barely see it.

“nah, mate,” phil says. “it’s not the end.”

it’s never the end.

**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos/etc are always appreciated! come yell at me if you want on twitter/tumblr @andthentheybow :)


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